


One Regret

by teacuptribbles



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Next Generation, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Friendship/Love, Grief/Mourning, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-16 23:02:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13064007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teacuptribbles/pseuds/teacuptribbles
Summary: While attending the memorial of Admiral Kirk, Spock is forced to confront his past actions regarding their relationship, and his humanity.





	One Regret

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place after Star Trek: Generations.

_“SPOCK: Fascinating. You have an efficient intellect, superior physical skills and no emotional impediments. There are Vulcans who aspire all their lives to achieve what you've been given by design._  
_DATA: You are half human._  
_SPOCK: Yes._  
_DATA: Yet you have chosen a Vulcan way of life._  
_SPOCK: I have._  
_DATA: In effect, you have abandoned what I have sought all my life._  
_SPOCK: I believe I have isolated the twenty ninth cipher access code. I shall attempt to access the Proconsul's files._  
_DATA: Ambassador Spock, may I ask a personal question?_  
_SPOCK: Please._  
_DATA: As you examine your life, do you find you have missed your humanity?_  
_SPOCK: I have no regrets._  
_DATA: No regrets. That is a human expression._  
_SPOCK: Yes. Fascinating.”-- Star Trek: The Next Generation, “Unification Part 2”_

_San Francisco, 2371_

Lieutenant Commander Data stood against the back wall of the massive memorial hall at Starfleet Headquarters, currently hosting the memorial ceremony of Admiral James T. Kirk. Data knew his place in situations such as these. While he could understand, and even respect, that Admiral Kirk was an accomplished and unique Starfleet captain, he could not mourn for the loss of his life. Not the way humans did anyway, with tears and strained voices. He stayed behind and left the best view of the ceremony for the humanoids.

Still unsure of how to integrate emotions effectively, he had deactivated his chip for this day. His moment of sorrow over Spot had been overwhelming enough. He took the opportunity to observe.

He had previously noted that humans mourned in various ways. Some openly sobbed, their cries on the verge of shrieking. Others stood still as stone, their mouths tight and downturned. Every display of grief was visible to him now. 

As he turned his head, taking in every second of cries and whispering prayers and sighs, he caught a familiar face. He was surprised to see Ambassador Spock in the back with him. Kirk and Spock had been friends for several decades, and if he understood friendship correctly, this dictated that Spock should be at the front, or perhaps even leading the service. Instead, like Data, his back was to the wall. He stood perfectly still. 

Data had heard people compare him to Vulcans his entire life. He understood it only up to a point. Vulcans were puzzling to him. Every living being, including himself, had an innate sense of self-preservation. In biological organisms, this self-preservation was based upon needs: hunger, sleep, sex. He did not understand why Vulcans insisted upon stoicism so, since it was contradictory to their innate urges.

He understood Ambassador Spock even less. Spock had a human parent. He knew the highs and lows of emotion better than most Vulcans. He could have chosen to embrace it, embrace warmth and despair in a way that Data, even with the emotion chip, would perhaps never know. Yet, he had eschewed it, and if Data could feel at the moment, he imagined he would feel envy. 

Spock’s expression did not change as Picard’s retelling of Kirk’s last moments brought the service to a close. Anticipatory stirrings were heard: people coughing, shifting their feet. They formed a line to the symbolic casket, bearing flowers and notes and other gifts. Spock made no motions to move forward.

Data watched the mourner’s procession for a while. Counselor Troi was the first to find him. Before she could say anything, he expressed his confusion. “I am not sure what is appropriate, Counselor.”

Deanna laid a hand on his shoulder, a gesture he understood was reassuring. “People like to take a moment to say goodbye. It can ease mourning to have a personal moment with the dead. Some people like to touch the casket. Others leave flowers, or say a few words.”

He nodded. He knew Kirk, but not well, and it did not seem right for him to take time others could use. “I believe I will wait for the rest of our crew.”

She squeezed his shoulder slightly. “I think the Captain would like to take his time.” Data nodded in agreement. He had anticipated that much. 

He left with Deanna, entering the conference room adjacent to the hall. Food, water, coffee, and wine was spread across several tables. Portraits of Kirk at various stages in his life decorated the walls. 

Data had not developed his own definition of attractiveness yet. He could only rely on what he had learned from humans. Kirk, with his blonde hair and bright eyes, had been handsome. Indeed, old lovers had come here to say goodbye.

As people ate and drank, the somber mood seemed to lift, and smiling was appropriate again. People floated around the room, greeting old colleagues and expressing their condolences to one another. Hugs were frequently exchanged.

All attendees were in this room now, except for Spock. Data found this curious. Had he left?

He stepped into the memorial hall again to see Spock standing over the casket, touching it with his fingertips. This seemed an intimate moment. Data turned to leave.

“Lieutenant Commander Data.” Vulcan hearing was exceptional.

“I was merely curious to see if you were still with us, Ambassador. I will leave you.”

Spock motioned for Data to approach. He complied, unsure of what to expect.

He stood before the casket now, adorned with many flowers. Spock laid a hand on it delicately. While many other Starfleet officials had worn their formal uniforms, he was dressed in a bulky robe of all black. He did not speak to Data for a long time. Data was grateful he had deactivated his chip, or he would be feeling very anxious now.

“I told you, years ago, that I had no regrets.”

“Yes, I remember the encounter.”

“I now have only one, and it is serious.”

Data was beginning to understand. It seemed he was still in the Ambassador’s company because the Ambassador needed company. “Is it regarding Admiral Kirk, sir?”

Spock nodded solemnly. “I loved him, and he loved me. And that frightened me. I spent so many years fighting it, accepting it, and then fighting it again. What he wanted out in the open, I wanted to keep hidden. There were times I hurt him terribly, years we spent apart. Yet, he was always there…”

Data did not need empathy to hear the anguish in Spock’s voice. He knew Vulcans did not appreciate being touched, but he wondered if perhaps this moment could be an exception. He reached out his hand and placed it on Spock’s shoulder. 

When Spock spoke again, his voice had returned to its usual calm resoluteness. “Have you developed the capacity for feelings yet, Mr. Data?”

“My father created a chip for me that allows me to feel. I admit I am having difficulty incorporating it.”

For the first time since they were alone together, Spock turned to look Data in the eye. He looked, above all else, exhausted.

“Is there anyone in your life that you love?”

Love, that elusive and all powerful emotion. Data was unsure. He was still struggling with fear, anger, happiness, and disgust. He cared about his friends, but did not know if love was the apt descriptor.

He thought about what love meant to humans. Devotion, comfort, companionship. If that was so, then his relationship with Geordi most approximated love. Geordi, who literally knew him inside and out and never disregarded his personhood. He could almost feel warmth thinking about him now.

“Yes. My best friend, Geordi.”

“Tell him. It will be awkward and sentimental, but one day, both of you will be grateful that you said it.”

Data nodded. “I understand, sir. Thank you. Is there anything I can do for you?”

Spock returned his gaze to the casket. “I would like a few minutes alone.”

“Of course.”

“And Mr. Data?”

Data looked over his shoulder. “Yes, sir?”

“Don’t give up. Being human will be the hardest thing you have ever done, but don’t give up.”

***

When Ambassador Spock entered the conference hall, he was inundated with well-intentions. People saying their sorries, offering him words of comfort, asking if he needed anything. 

Uhura, McCoy, and Scotty watched from a corner. Uhura shook her head. “That poor man. I’m going to rescue him.” At 130 years old, Uhura was slower, but no less graceful than she had ever been. When she made eye contact with Spock, she beamed at him. 

“Mr. Spock.” She said, softly, and wrapped an arm around his. “Excuse me, everyone, but I need to borrow my old friend the Ambassador for a moment.” She pulled him to the rest of the old _Enterprise_ crew.

“Nyota, I am forever in your debt.” 

Spock looked to his friends. Scotty, having not aged in the same timeline as the others, looked healthy and like he had many years left. Uhura was still beautiful, with snow white hair and perfectly manicured nails, but she was thin and small. McCoy, approaching 144, looked especially frail. 

Not for the first time, the reality of Spock’s lifespan was apparent to him. He had already outlived friends, and he would continue to do so. 

McCoy cleared his throat. “Look at us. Is this what Jim would have wanted for his memorial? For us to sit around and eat cake and be miserable?”

Scotty nodded. “I concur. Maybe we can sneak off into one of the smaller rooms and celebrate, just the old crew. I brought provisions.”

McCoy smiled. “You could always be counted on for that, Scotty.”

They slipped away from the crowd. A shuffling McCoy brought up the rear. Whenever Spock turned to give a look of concern, McCoy scowled and gave him an impatient wave. Scotty stood in front of a door that slid open obediently. Lights came on to illuminate an empty room. He smiled. “This will do, eh?”

They sat at the conference table as Scotty pulled a bottle of Scotch from his bag. McCoy was the first to take a drink. He turned to Spock, who declined.

“Still haven’t developed a taste for it?”

“Correct.” Though it was at times like this Spock wished he had.

McCoy shrugged and offered some to Uhura, who took a small sip. They began catching up. McCoy told them about his grandkids, Scotty about his new ship. Inevitably, they began reminiscing about the _Enterprise_ and Jim Kirk. Spock retreated into himself.

“Remember that, Spock?”

He lifted his gaze. “My apologies. What was that?”

“The goddamn tribble hair!,” McCoy shouted. “It was _everywhere_ for weeks. Thanks to you.” He pointed a finger at Uhura.

She laughed and rolled her eyes. “I will never hear the end of the tribbles, will I? Boy, Jim was mad at me.”

Spock felt unwell. He stood abruptly. “Excuse me.”

One side of his head throbbed. He needed fresh air. A nearby balcony provided a view of San Francisco, twinkling as the sun set. It was not as soothing as he had hoped.

His sensitivity to cold had advanced to intolerance as he grew older. Still, the pain of chilly air against his nose and ears provided some distraction.

Jim had died violently and unexpectedly. There was no opportunity for Spock to prepare for his death, to let go. His mind kept scanning for Jim only to come up against a void. How desperately he wanted his brain to stop doing this, but he could not control it anymore than he could control his urge to breathe. 

“How ya holdin’ up?”

McCoy looked up at Spock, his big blue eyes sympathetic. Spock leaned against the balcony railing, wrapping his hands around the icy metal. It was uncomfortable, and necessary.

_“Spock, I’m begging you, don’t do this.”_

_Sealing the box that contained his favorite books and scientific instruments, Spock sat on the edge of his bed._

_“I have to, Jim. I don’t expect you to understand.”_

_“Damn right I don’t understand! You’re happy here, aren’t you?”_

_Jim reached for Spock’s hand and held it in his own, their fingers interlacing. A shock travelled down the length of Spock’s spine. He was dangerously close to tears._

_“That, Jim, is the problem.”_

“I am fine, Doctor.”

McCoy stepped closer, not buying it. McCoy had never bought it. “We’ve had our moments, haven’t we? Man, in those early days we fought like cats and dogs. I always cared about you, though, I hope you know that.”

_“I can’t believe this. I never thought I’d say this about you, but you...you’re a coward.”_

_“Jim, this can’t go on. This--we--are not sustainable. I need to return to Vulcan and complete the kolinahr, and you need to return the Enterprise to Earth.”_

When Spock did not reply, McCoy continued. “We are all hurtin’ today. We all loved Jim dearly. But I know it’s different for you. Suddenly losing your, uh, what’s the word for it--tee, tuh, the Vulcan word--well, your mate, is traumatic no matter where you come from. I feel for you, I really do.”

That tore Spock away from his memory. He looked to McCoy with shock. “You know?”

“Oh, Spock.” He said, his tone bordering on pity. “Of course I know. I was your third wheel for years.”

Spock watched as the sun descended, casting the city into darkness. “Then you know I failed him.”

McCoy shook his head. “I admit I thought that once. I held it against you for a long time. But I think I’m finally getting wise in my old age. None of us have the answers, Spock, especially when it comes to love. And no matter what, you two loved each other a hell of a lot.”

The stars were bright and beautiful. Spock wondered when he would be among them again. 

“Yes. We did.”

McCoy stood next to Spock and watched the stars gleam and burn. “Nothing could ever separate you two. I don’t think that will change. He’ll be there, waiting for you.”

Spock kept his eyes above. “He always was.”


End file.
